Lady Misfortune
by SeveredPixieHead
Summary: Based on the 100 themes challenge Not every princess has a happy ending; the dragon may not live long enough to save her. And not every fairy exists for good. Trigger warming- abuse and mental illness


Hiyaa! This is my first story on this (my new account) and I'm planning for it to be a full length fanfic. Its based on the 100 themes challenge, however instead of the between 500-1000 words limit ima just use the themes and go from there. There will be trigger warnings at some points as this isn't gonna be a lovey dove sweet story, but enjoy!

My weary eyes grow tired as they dart back and forth over the gruesome scene that just transpired. With a regretful sigh, I wipe the fresh blood off my hands and try to cleanse my conscious.The weapon thatexonerated the slaughterlies mockingly beneath my fingertips, taunting and daring me to reverse my regrettable actions. Yet, as the warm blood flows still, and the body of my dearly beloved begins to freeze, I walk away, willing the sorrow to not consume me.

Pure white tiles glisten with crimson fluid, leaving in my wake a trail of bloodied footprints leading to the next chapter of this story. With a clearer head and a renewed grip on sanity, I begin to plan out the next phase, pushing back the sickly aroma of spiralling madness. Madness had a smell; it was sharp and metallic. From here on out all the nights spent dangling on the edge of lucidity, bloodshot eyes clamped awake with caffeine induced adrenaline- it would all pay off in the sweet form of a plumb briefcase, overflowing with luscious wads of cash. Destroying my own almost seemed worth it. Almost.

My fingers twitch asa shudderinghiss escapes from between clenched teeth. I scroll themouse over to the 'file' button and save the word document as chapter 23 in the 'Lucy's Story' folder.

Heya, I'm Lucy Heartfillia. Full time medical student at Magnolia University and aspiring novelist.Reality versus expectation I guess. Becoming an author has been a career I've wanted to pursue since I was little, butit's been pushed aside in favour of my parents wishes. The good old Heartfilia's. Where aesthetics is of more significance than aspirations. I mean, it's not necessarily out of malice, rather, our family is center spotlight; it would be humiliating to have your only daughter unemployed and unsuccessful.

As far as writing goes,I have a part time job in the local paper but that's about it. Closest I'll get to the real deal.At the very least, it helps pay the rent. Currently, I share a studio with my boyfriend Eric- its not convenient but, hewon't have it any other way.

Today -an "oh so cheery," timid October evening-the damp air feels heavy and dense, droplets of condensation racing each other down the inside of the café window. Dreary atmosphere weighs down visibly on everyone's mood.Everyone excluding a little girl,disappearing and materialising in flashes of soft yellow, dancing across my(and only mine) vision.

Wrapping the sides of myway too bigwintercoat around me, I tug at the sleeves, hiding away my hands save for iridescent tealfingertips, chipped and gnawed at.Nail aesthetics were the least of my worries. Tearing my attention away from the sweet little distraction, theharsh slaps of worn out trainers on cheap linoleum make a sudden appearance. Stoppingat the side of our table, Eric's form towers above my hunched frame as he rather abruptlyslidesafull mug ofhazardously hotcoffeemy way, opaque liquid almost spilling over and sloshing over the sides.

"Take it," he sighs, voice gravelly and tired. I tilt my head in confusion. Little yellow disappears.

"What? I didn't ask for one, it's fine, you can have it." I replygently pushing it back towards him, returning to work editing out minor grammatical errors.He narrows his eyes at me.Not-so-gently shovingme and my laptop out of the way, he takes a seat.

"I didn't ask if you wanted it, I told you to take it. Do as you're told." Didn't even look at me. From this angle I can study his facial features. Sharp jaw, tensed in agitation. High cheekbones. Narrowed, hollow eyes. He did not look happy.

"Eric. Not. Now." I strain from behind clenched teeth. Sighing for the umpteenth time that evening, I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.

Heavy silence enveloped the atmosphere. The café was in a quiet part of town, hidden among other gems. It was wedged between an old fashionedpawn shop and florist that had recently gone bankrupt. Seems as thought only me and Eric came here considering its secretive location,although today, another guy with florescent pink hair was occupying a table across the other side of the room. Didn't matter anyway. We only came here for the WiFi. Eric says 'why pay for shit that you can get for free elsewhere.'

"It's called common courtesy. You steal their internet and we buy a drink or two, now take the goddamn coffee." he gently threatens, voice lacing with annoyance. From the corner of my eye I can see his hand tense around the ceramic cup. Meanwhile mine are clenched tight in my lap, knuckles whitening. The lighting fixtures overhead flicker and buzz in agitation, anticipating my no doubt rebellious response. My yellow sweetheart disappeared.

"I said I don't want it." mydefiant voice whispers as I bite my bottom lip, quivering slightly. I didn't want to make him mad- ohthe irony. Regardless, he almost explodes.

"Goddammit woman what don't you understand?Fucking take it!" Eric practically yells, thrusting the beverage abrasivelyinto my chest, splattering steaminghot coffee down my shirt and thighs, the remnants boring painfully into my skin. I jump up at the sudden shock of heat, slamming into the table andgasping as I do so. The heat latches onto myflesh and clings on tight, sending constant waves of agony with every movement.Eric's eyes instantly glaze over in regret, face forming into one of shock. "I'm so sorry baby I didn't mean to-"

It's not the first time you've said that.

He grabs a wad of the nearestpaper towelsand haphazardly wipes the excess coffee off my shirt. His strong hand keeps me clamped in place.

"I'm gonna take a walk," I snap snatching my arm back out of his grip, reaching over for napkins with trembling hands and dabbing gently. My eyes flick back and forth with unshed tears as I grab my laptop with one hand and my backpack with the other after shaking Eric off. I turn around and boltout of the door doing my best to ignore looks of sympathy from the waitress and other random background dude, but not before a seethingvoice mutters 'be back before 8.' The tinkling of the sunny chimes on the doorway andbuzz of the lightsdrown out the unspoken threat.

I run. Run far and fast. My worn boots slap the gravel messily and my backpack slams against my back with every thud. I heave shuddering breaths, fog emitting from my mouth with every exhale. A greying sky shelters the horizon with a blanket of agitated storm clouds. Rain wasn't even a questions anymoreas much as when. An opaque filter of hurt and anger had clouded my vision, I don't even know where I am anymore. Yellow anticipated an 'attack' anddisappeared out of fright.Mentally screaming, I drag my ass into a deserted park, dreading the moment I have to leave and go back to Eric. He's a good person but its hard to hold onto his 'good' side. If he blows up on me, so be it. I can't leave.

The haze of dark hues above me opens up in all its violent glory, pelting down, clinging to my hair and clothes. With no shelter from the rain, I make my dreary way towards an abandoned swing set, hidden in a dense patch of trees. The worn seat shrieks in protest against my weight before settling down, squealing in response to my gentle swaying. How much longer am I meant to put up with this bullshit?

Laughing bitterly I close my eyes and turn towards the sky embracing the small, crisp droplets of cloud-tears.

Calm.

Calm.

Calm.

Inhale 4 seconds.

Hold 7 seconds.

Exhale 8 seconds.

Repeat.

Repeat again.

Once more.

"Are you okay?"

After the whole fiasco at the café I storm out leaving a hefty tip for the waitress on my table and sending the now alone maroon-haired asshole a well deserved glare. His blonde (I'm assuming) girlfriend ran out and headed downtown, leaving behind her the fleeting scene of her seething partner. Lingering a few seconds outside the door of the shop I scan the surroundings, briefly spotting a figure turning the corner. Reflexes kick in and I sprint after the silhouette, keeping my distance yet within my sight.

After about 10 minutes of continuous running the blonde slows down, eyes set on the abandoned park at the edge of town. Stopping for a good few seconds to catch my breath, I take my time walking after the girl through the towering, rusty entrance. Just about now, the clouds burst and release a flurry of typical mid-October rain; cold and painful. At this point Ms. Blondie had settled down in the hidden playground section, softly swaying on the swings with her face turned towards the sky.

I give her a moment.

Creeping quietly as to not startle her, I close the distance between us, tentatively raising my voice and asking "Are you okay?"

Her startled eyes shoot open, quickly spotting me as confusion etches in her features. Her expression turns sour as she snaps: "Who are you?"

Oh shit right.

Her eyes narrow. "Weren't you in that café?"

My sheepish expression answers her question.

"I don't need your sympathy. Go away." In response to her rude request, I cross my arms, plopping down on the swing next to her.

"I'm not going anywhere and I'm sure as hell not letting you go back to him," I state with finality. At that, she remains motionless, showing no attempt at re-engaging in conversation. "So... What's your name?"

A panicked flickering shows me her reluctance to answer.

"My name's Natsu," I state proudly, offering her a warm smile and firm hand to shake. Dim cinnamon eyes waver in an internal conflict, heightening the iridescent specks of honey present in her molten eyes. Warily, a dainty hand emerges from hiding within oversized sleeves, bridging the distance between us and meeting my hand. Almost as soon as her fingers make contact she pulls back hastily, making me frown at the glimpse of her bitten nails, coated in a chipped polish. The blonde girl notices my sombre expression before biting her lower lip and giving a quick introduction. "I'm Lucy."

My grin returns once again at the progress.


End file.
